


Plant + Cat = Catnip.

by RussianSunflower3



Series: Sunflower's Iwaizumi week 2016 [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Iwaizumi Week 2016, Please don't fall asleep on trains, team swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7416451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianSunflower3/pseuds/RussianSunflower3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi is a patient man. But patience breaks at any time, and somehow, that leads to Iwaizumi ending up lost and alone in Tokyo.<br/>Until Captain Cat picks him up off the street and drags him into their practice.</p><p>Surely Nekoma can't get into as many shenanigans as Aobajosai. Right? ... Right!?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Training, trains, and rain.

Iwaizumi Hajime is a patient man. He has to be, with Oikawa as his best friend and two other idiots in his friend circle. That in itself isn’t bad; he can easily handle them and occasionally finds himself acting up just as much as them.

He’s patient enough to deal with Yahaba, Watari, and Kindaichi; because they actually _behave_. Sometimes, it’s a blessing. But it can also be a curse because they’re just too calm. When Matsukawa and Hanamaki manage to drag them into something, Iwaizumi has no warning whatsoever.

His patience wears thin when Kunimi keeps skipping drills or purposely being lacklustre. Once, Iwaizumi had to drag him out the clubroom by the collar because the first year claimed it was ‘too hot’ for exertion. The rest of the team managed just fine, so Iwaizumi knew it was a lame excuse.

Attributes such as patience, however, are notorious for running out. The candle on the cake turns out to be Kyoutani, who not only shows a huge amount of disrespect for anyone _not_ Iwaizumi, but brings trouble and stress to their practices. Today, he steps in half an hour late, with a ripped uniform sleeve, black eye, and a grin that conveys the other person must look worse. And it’s only goddamn half 7 in the morning.

This is happening at the same time as Hanamaki and Oikawa have wrapped the net around Kindaichi like a big burrito, trapping him there whilst Watari _attempts_ to brush out his hair. They’re determined to find out what his hair looks like when it’s not defying gravity and imitating vegetables. Iwaizumi is just shy of using physical force to rip them away and release the first year when Kyoutani walks in.

Kunimi and Matsukawa aren’t even hiding their Nintendo’s, standing in the middle of the room tapping away and trading Pokémon whilst making deadpan innuendos that already makes Iwaizumi want to scream. They should be _practicing_!

At the same time, Yahaba is sitting on a bench at the side with a can of squirty cream and a huge bar of chocolate, protesting the strict nutritional guidelines the Coaches put in place. He bites off a large mouthful of chocolate and then directly swirls the cream into his mouth until it almost overflows. It’s likely the Coaches would stop everything with a single demand if they were here. But much to Iwaizumi’s grief, they aren’t.

When Kyoutani waltzes in as late as he is, smug expression and ‘battle wound’, he isn’t even in volleyball kit and still wears his outside shoes, tracking mud in the gymnasium that was thoroughly cleaned before practice begun. **If** it could be referred to as practice.

Iwaizumi’s patience - already walking a thin line - snaps. 

“That is ENOUGH! Oikawa, Hanamaki, release him _immediately_! Yahaba, you can incur diabetes in your own time, but this is a no eating zone! Put it away! Kyoutani, get your ass to the clubroom and change NOW! When you’ve done that, you can grab a mop and scrub that mud off. Kunimi and Matsukawa, I expected better from you. Consoles away and get warmed up.”

He expected them to listen to him.

He expected them to do as told.

“Iwa-chan, you need to loosen up a bit! Practice hasn’t started yet!”

“Practice started half an hour ago, dumbass! If you weren’t messing around, you’d know that!” Oikawa whipped his head frantically between the clock on the wall and Iwaizumi, before releasing an unholy screech.

“We’re wasting practice time!!!” Iwaizumi pinches the bridge of his nose as he watches the team suddenly kick into gear setting the net up properly and stop messing around. But it’s too late. His patience has already broken and he’s _done_. 

He heads to the clubroom and gets changed, slinging his bag over his shoulder and finding a notebook. Using the pen he always keeps in his blazer chest pocket, he writes a note addressed to the Coaches - for when they finish their meeting and come to check up on practice – and places it on the bench. Nobody has even noticed his unfitting attire. Nobody has noticed his absence thanks to the chaos going on in the gymnasium. Nobody notices when he slips out the door to make his way home.

To get to – and from – Aobajosai, Iwaizumi has to take a train three stations. He isn’t really aware of the times that the trains run during the day, because he only needs to know the morning on _to_ school, and the evening one _from_ school. He’s never been late before, so there’s no way he knows what time the train is coming. 

It seems like he’s lucky. Not only is there a train due in the next ten minutes, he can still get on for the student travel price, which only runs up until 8 in the morning. What he doesn’t realise – as he boards and sits down – is that this train does not stop at the village station. The third stop is not the last. This particular train goes all the way in to _Tokyo_. That wouldn’t be a problem, if it weren’t for Iwaizumi’s cursed ability to fall asleep on any vehicle, anywhere. Usually, Oikawa would be there to shake him awake so they could walk home together.

“Sir...? Sir, please wake up...” Iwaizumi grunted and lifted his head, unfolding his arms from their stiff position. For a moment, he was verily confused, until he remembered that he had gotten on the train home after his patience had been completely snapped. Except... Oikawa wasn’t there to wake him, so who...?

“Sir, we’ve reached the end of the line, you need to depart.” He blinked at the rail staff member before his brain kicked into gear and he stood, bowing deeply at the waist in apology. No more words were exchanged as he stumbled off the train masking a yawn and then... 

Stopped.

He recognised Tokyo station from many pictures on travel leaflets or from PowerPoint slides on school projects. But he had _no idea_ where a schedule would be, where the help desk was, or what the hell he was supposed to do. It was only thanks to a large clock on the wall that he could see it was...

4:35?! In the afternoon?! He must have slept the entire track route, back and forth multiple times! Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Iwaizumi searched around for any kind of help desk or timetable. Alas, the only thing he could really find, over and over again, was the main exit. 

_“Well, not like there’s any other option.”_ Henceforth, Iwaizumi Hajime, who had never furthered beyond the school grounds, volleyball stadiums, and his home town, stepped into the organised hustle and bustle of Tokyo.

A bad decision, really. Within 20 minutes, he ends up pickpocketed and led astray by a substantial amount of confusing signs. All he has on him now is his gym bag and school bag. His phone is gone, as is his wallet, so even if he made it back to the station or hailed a taxi, there’s no way he could pay travel fare. 

“Great. Well, it can’t get worse than this.” Lost and isolated, Iwaizumi’s frown deepens when the cloudy sky starts to release a pitiful shower. Not enough to be considered rain, but just enough to be annoying. He scowled and headed into the nearest shelter, a large tree in front of a fence that looked remarkably similar to the one around his school...

If he was still at school, afternoon club would be starting right now. Yet here he was, crouched under a tree in sprinkling rain with nothing more than his school bag and gym kit. 

“-wouldn’t have happened if we’d warmed up _inside_.”

“Okay, so I was wrong to issue runs on an overcast day! It was a good idea at first. You can’t blame me for the weather systems, Yaku.”

“Will you two stop arguing for five minutes? I think we lost Kenma again.”

“Shit!! Again?!” 4 different voices, increasing in volume as they apparently neared caught Iwaizumi’s attention. He wasn’t thinking too hard about it first, but he could _swear_ he recognised one of the voices from somewhere. 

“I’ll go look for him. Keep your phones handy in case he rings, if we’re not back in twenty minutes, call mine.”

_“Mine!”_ He remembered! In both first and second year, he’d sat with Oikawa to watch the nationals, and that voice was one he remembered above the rest because – as Oikawa said – It was like velvet, but probably the trademark of a nerd. It was only due to that that Iwaizumi was able to remember and recognise the voice of Kuroo Tetsurou, volleyball captain of Nekoma high school. But Iwaizumi had another problem. 

He was – to an almost painful degree – shy. Whilst he was polite and respectful, he was also socially awkward. He could easily talk to senior citizens or parents. He was good with young kids, always pretending they were stronger than him, faster than him, and he knew exactly what to say to get children to stop crying. 

But when it came to his own age group, Iwaizumi had not a clue. He left the introductions and ‘bonding’ to Oikawa, until he knew the limitations of what he could and couldn’t do. Without Oikawa around, Iwaizumi was stuck and completely helpless in the face of social demands. He sank further back into the shelter of the tree, almost hidden by the bushes, as the team passed by in red and white tracksuits.

“Uh-!” Just as he was about to call out, they had passed completely. Grumbling to himself, Iwaizumi sat back against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes to listen as the rain fell harder. It was soothing in the sound it made, kind of surreal, and so easy to calm his thoughts to. But it was also distressing. Because he was lost, damp, and had no way of getting home or contacting someone to _get_ him home. 

Worst of all, his friends wouldn’t notice until he didn’t turn up to morning practice tomorrow. How was he supposed to survive a night on the streets of Tokyo? He didn’t have any street smart, no blankets, and no knowledge of what to do. His respect for the homeless soared to new heights. He’d always understood it was difficult... But until he had to face a _single_ night alone, he had never understood quite how difficult.

“Hey, are you okay?” He jolted out of heavy thoughts to realise the wetness on his face was not rain dripping from the leaves above, and someone was standing over him. He wiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm and nodded.

“You sure? Here, let me help you.” Iwaizumi took the hand offered to him before taking in the appearance of the person in front of him. Red tracksuit, messy black hair. _Definitely_ the guy he’d seen on TV. Perhaps, someone who could even help him.

“Thanks. You, uh-... You’re Kuroo-san, right? Nekoma’s Captain?” Kuroo rightly looked confused and surprised with the recognition.

“Yeah, I am. And you are?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime. From Aobajosai.” He shifted the bag on his hip, catching Kuroo’s attention firstly, until he mulled over the information.

“Aobajosai, huh? That’s in Miyagi. You’re a long way from home. What did you do, fall asleep on the train?” Although he was only teasing, Kuroo hit the nail on the head. With a light blush and pouting lips, Iwaizumi looked away in guilt and embarrassment. Kuroo snorted with a soft laugh, and a small huff of amusement came from behind him. Iwaizumi blinked as he only just registered the presence of a third person. Black and blond, in the same red tracksuit but at least three sizes too big, and a gameboy in hands. Cat-like pupils slid over to him, and Iwaizumi respectfully nodded in greeting. The tiniest nod was returned his way before the boy went back to his game.

“Kenma, that’s no way to introduce yourself.”

“It was enough...”

“Come here and properly introduce yourself.”

“Stop acting like my dad.” Defeated, Kuroo huffed and put his hands on his hips before turning back to Iwaizumi.

“You got a way to get home?”

“No.”

“Anyone you can contact?”

“My phone was taken.”

“A safe place to stay until you can figure things out?” Iwaizumi shook his head, shamefully hanging it low. He missed the glance Kenma and Kuroo shared, and he missed the way Kuroo rubbed at the back of his head in deep thought.

“Well, we’re not gonna find answers out here in the rain. You’ve got your kit, right? Come join our practice.” Iwaizumi’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline and his mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape, before curving up into a bright grin with eyes squeezed shut and crinkled at the corners.

“I’d love to, if you’ll have me.” A strong whack on his back was the answer, heartily pushing him in the direction of the school building.


	2. Dumb little lion cub.

Kuroo had showed him to the changing rooms and then introduced him to the team. Granted, he felt rather out of place in white and aqua whilst they all wore red and white, but Coach Nekomata was very welcoming and encouraged him to join in. 

“Learning from others is the greatest strength of humankind. We’d be happy to let you practice with us!”

“Ah, thank you for your hospitality.” He bowed deep at the waist in gratitude before awkwardly shuffling over to the team huddle. Whilst he missed Coach Naoi’s question to Nekomata about whether he’d be okay with such a mismatched bunch of teens, he immediately noticed the Mohawk guy step to the side to create a space for Iwaizumi to fit in. He nodded his thanks and joined the circle, listening to Kuroo as he set out the training schedule for today now that they had warmed up. Apparently, that had been why they were running in the rain.

“We’ll start with a quick rotational practice. Kenma, Inuoka, could you be a setter on each side of the net? That’s great, thanks. The rest of you line up equally. Volley the ball to your setter, spike it down the line, and then move into position to receive the next spiker’s ball. After that, join the line on the other side. Yakkun, Shibayama, you’ll be recieveing first. Are we clear?”

“Osu!” In various paces, the team jogged over to the ball cart and each selected a ball before jogging into position. Iwaizumi lagged behind, not really sure if he was fitting in despite standing out like a sore thumb in his different uniform. He held the volleyball with sweaty palms, spinning it round in his grip as the line got shorter and shorter until he was at the front. Kenma looked a little nervous too, like he wanted to say something but was too shy to. It was only then that Iwaizumi realised he had never asked for a specific type of set, despite never working with this setter before.

“Can you make it low and close to the net, please?” Kenma nodded, and as Iwaizumi threw the ball to him, moved directly under it and pushed the ball away with a keen eye. He knew as soon as he saw Iwaizumi falter that it was nowhere near good enough, but that wasn’t enough to stop the Ace of Aobajosai. 

He stepped to just outside the side court line, then leapt inwards, sideways, and the ball smacked against the centre of his palm. The strike was so powerful, that it echoed throughout the gymnasium. Anyone who had been watching had wide eyes as the ball shot towards Yaku with amazing velocity and strength. Yaku’s tongue poked out the corner of his mouth in anticipated concentration and he received it rather nicely. It didn’t cancel out all the spin, and therefore would not have been easy for the setter to compensate for, but it was highly impressive.

“Nice spike!” 

“Thanks. Nice receive. Amazing, actually.” Yaku beamed with pride as he picked up the discarded ball and quickly joined the other line leaving Iwaizumi to crouch, ready to receive. For a moment, he was slightly intimidated.

The guy on the other side of the net was lanky, but _huge_. He must have been more than 10 centimetres taller than Iwaizumi, and had a sharp piercing gaze with bright green eyes that made Iwaizumi’s look dull in comparison. The ball went to Kenma; and then high up above the net, higher than even Kindaichi could reach, he reckoned. A whip-like spike headed in his direction, but in a split second, Iwaizumi could see the timing and angle was off. Instead of spiking straight, the ball hurtled across the court. 

“Look out!” It would have hit the boy with extremely pale skin and short black hair, if it made the full journey. It could have potentially hurt someone, had Iwaizumi not leapt forth and caught it in one hand, tucking into his centre of gravity and rolling harmlessly to the boy’s feet. 

“Shit, man! Are you okay?!” A little dizzy from rolling so suddenly without thinking, Iwaizumi nodded. It had been the Mohawk guy who asked if he was okay, but the one who could have been hurt that offered him a hand, silently. He wondered if, like Kunimi, this ‘cat’ had non-verbal days. 

“I’m good, thanks. Sorry for disrupting practice.”

“No problem. Someone usually gets bruised a couple of times each practice thanks to Lev. Look, Yaku’s chewing him out now.” True to mohawk’s words – Taketora, he reminded himself – the giant was being visually lectured by the much-shorter libero, and apparently, his attempt to defend himself was worthy of a smack to the ribs that had him crumple. Iwaizumi snorted in amusement. He’d have to remember that one for when Hanamaki gave him stick.

“So, I’m guessing he’s a first year?”

“What? Lev? Yeah. He totally sucks 75% of the time, but we’re working on it. By Spring Tournament, he should be court ready. We hope.”

“Ah... But... Why is your libero mentoring him?” Guiltily, Taketora looked away, mumbling under his breath. When he realised Iwaizumi hadn’t heard him, he said it again, a little louder, but just as shamefully.

“We’ve all tried and failed. Yaku is the only one who keeps going back, so I’m guessing he’s a masochist.” The silent boy - Fukunaga – elbows Taketora in the ribs sharply, but that doesn’t erase the soft smirk on his face, which pretty much confirms he thinks the same. Rubbing at the sore spot with a grimace, Taketora held his hand out flat in invitation. His expression changed into a challenging grin.

“You’re welcome to try, if ya think you can do it.” It was a challenge. Iwaizumi knew that, really, he had no business trying to teach a Nekoma first year, but... He _did_ love a challenge.

“It can’t be as hard as you make it out to be.”

“ _Oh boy..._ ” Fukunaga’s soft exhale caught Iwaizumi’s attention before the younger was stepping forth in the practice rotation. Taketora only snorted with an ugly laugh and dropped his ball aside to wave wildly at Kuroo with both hands.

“Hey, Cap’n! Wanna let Iwaizumi have a go at the dumb lion cub?”

“I’d rather we _don’t_ break our guest, thank you very much.” The deadpan response was met with little snickers all around the court, and a sigh of exasperation from Naoi. Nekomata, it seemed, had made himself scarce. Otherwise, he probably would have laughed the most. A little confused, Iwaizumi placed one hand on his hip with a raised eyebrow.

“What, like teaching your kouhai is hard?” Stillness. Silence. A tense aura. 

_“Shit, did I say something wrong?”_ A low chuckle came from Kuroo’s direction, and with a slim, shady grin, he stepped over to Iwaizumi and used his extra few centimetres to lean over him. The dangerous expression on his face reminded Iwaizumi of when Oikawa got **nasty** , and he found himself swallowing down a lump in his throat.

“Alright, _buddy._ Let’s see how you fare for a single practice~.” A large hand pat him on the back and guided him over towards the gigantic first year, who obliviously blinked. 

“Hey Lev, meet your new playmate for today! Iwaizumi here is gonna teach you _allllll_ you need~.” 

“Wow, really?! Thanks, Iwaizumi-san! Ack! I mean Senpai! Sorry, I didn’t realise you were a third year, cus you’re kinda short!” Iwaizumi’s eye twitched. His skin prickled with annoyance and his jaw tightened. Luckily, before his retort – which he was holding back out of politeness – escaped, Yaku took the giant down with a kick to the back of the knees. He grinned down at Lev as he whined on the floor, and then turned to Iwaizumi with an exhausted expression. 

“Good luck.”


	3. Panic.

He’d never been so worn down in his life. Lev was – for lack of a kinder idiom – thick as a plank! Everything seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Once he’d learnt one technique, he forget the one before that! Iwaizumi wasn’t completely defeated though. With the repetitive practice and little mentoring comments, Lev’s timing had improved in leaps and bounds. 

“Iwaizumi, could I have a moment, please?” Nekomata re-entered the gym with a helpless look, and Iwaizumi instantly realised it could only mean there was no possible way for him to get home.

“Yes sir.” Whilst the rest of the team went and showered and change, as a responsible captain, Kuroo attended the little talk between Coach and guest. They were led over to a corner, away from the openness of the gym, and Iwaizumi reckoned it had something to do with the bench in case he needed to sit down. Presently, the closeness of the walls was doing wonders for making him feel less vulnerable, but it still didn’t hide the shake in his hands. What was he going to do if he couldn’t get home?

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of your school all this time. I’m sorry, but the most I was able to do was leave your Coach a voicemail.” 

Iwaizumi’s world stopped spinning. 

He was stranded in Tokyo. He was on his own for a night, on the streets. He had no safety, no protection, not even his _mobile_ to tell his mother-

His mother.

Oh god, he should have been finishing practice and going home by now. In less than 20 minutes, she’d find out her son left practice in the morning and never came home. She’d find Oikawa on her doorstep asking to see ‘Iwa-chan’, and she’d have to tell him that he wasn’t there. She’d be filled with a deep worry and possibly a panic that was _bad for her heart condition-_

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, take a deep breath, come on, Iwaizumi...” His eyes were prickling with fire and water at the same time. His cheeks were tense and vibrating as his jaw line shook and he took shallow, quick breaths, hyperventilating to the point of light-headedness. He thought his lungs would give way, but it was his legs instead, and only Kuroo lunging forwards with a swear word bursting through his lips prevented Iwaizumi from hitting the ground.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re gonna do yourself some damage if you don’t **breathe** , you idiot!” 

Gasping underwater and lungs filling with water and flames dancing in his chest and claws in his heart and-

Overwhelmed. 

Completely, and utterly, overwhelmed.

Then, breaking through the coldness, there is a soft warmth, like drinking coffee in front of a windowsill, watching the snow fall. It’s calm and steady and there’s a gentle beat in the background that Iwaizumi finds his breath syncing to.

_In, ba-dum, ba-dum, out, ba-dum, ba-dum..._ It takes him way too long to realise that it’s a heartbeat. He’s lying down, not on the floor, but in someone’s arms. He’s pulled up against a warm torso, ear pressed to the centre of someone’s chest. He knows it’s not Nekomata, because it smells like sweat and hard work and too much teenage body spray.

“That’s it, you got it. Can you sit up?” Iwaizumi is nudged into a sitting position, but the hand on his back never leaves, rubbing in small comforting circles. Kuroo’s voice is unusually soft when he speaks.

“Want to talk about what triggered that....?”

“My- My mother. She has a heart condition.” He didn’t know why he was saying this.

“If- If she panics, she could go into cardiac arrest.” He didn’t know why he was telling a complete stranger.

“If I don’t get home, she’ll-...” Iwaizumi cuts himself off, choking up. He has no idea what made it so easy to talk to Kuroo, but he’s grateful when the hand on his back stops circling just enough to be comforting and yet sturdily supportive. 

“... Kenma! Get over here!” The two-toned setter, who appears to have stepped out the clubroom as soon as he was changed, flinches at his name before coming over, shoulders hunched. He must be shy around strangers, Iwaizumi thinks. 

“What, Kuro?”

“Give me your phone.”

“H-huh?”

“I have an idea. A really important one. Give me your phone.” Kenma relents, fidgeting, as he draws his phone from his pocket and passes it over to Kuroo’s free hand. Iwaizumi can’t see what he’s doing, but he watches Kenma’s eyes widen as Kuroo selects something, then holds the phone to his ear. 

“Kuro, are you-?”

“Shh. Ah hey, Shrimpy! No- Listen- Oi! It’s Kuroo. Kenma’s right here, but- HEY! Thank you! Now you’re quiet, will you listen to me?!” Kenma bites his lip tensely, but he doesn’t intervene.

“Look, are you still at your school? Yes, right now. Okay, great. Follow my instructions _very_ carefully. Go and find your Teaching Advisor.” There’s a long pause where Kuroo taps his fingers against the phone with a flat, bored expression. The phone on the other end must get passed over at some point, because Kuroo suddenly breaks into a huge, polite grin. Iwaizumi comes to the conclusion that he’s the type to act out phone calls, with hand gestures and facial expressions.

“Hello, Sensei! Yes, sorry for bothering you, but we have an emergency. Do you have any method of getting in direct contact with Aobajosai? Yeah, we’ve tried all digital means, but we can’t get through. Thank you very much, when you can reach them, please inform them their lost student is here, at Nekoma. Yeah, he’s okay. Again, sorry for bothering you and thank you very much, Takeda-sensei.” 

With a victorious grin, Kuroo ends the call, flips the phone shut, and passes it back to Kenma. 

“Karasuno’s teaching assistant is a godsend. He’s going to drive over and tell them face to face.” Iwaizumi releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Thank you.” Nekomata nods in pride at his student, before addressing Iwaizumi with a very serious tone.

“There’s still the issue of _how_ you’re going to get home. I wouldn’t mind lending you the money-.”

“No! Please, no. You’ve shown me so much kindness already, I couldn’t possibly burrow money.” The Coach sighs.

“I’m gettin’ too old for you kids to be throwing curveballs like this.”

“I’m terribly sorry, but I couldn’t be so rude.” There’s a coat of steel to Iwaizumi’s voice and his sharp green eyes harden with stubbornness. Their kindness has been more than enough, he’s definitely not going to take advantage of that and burrow money. Even if it is only burrowing, he’s been raised better than that.

“... There’s a spare futon at my house... You can- If you have to stay overnight, I don’t mind your company...” Kuroo gapes at Kenma, who is _welcoming_ a stranger into his house, overnight! It’s not the fact he doesn’t trust Iwaizumi. It’s the fact that he didn’t get to stay for a sleepover at Kenma’s until 2 _years_ into their friendship! Kenma pointedly looks away from Kuroo and towards the floor, hiding behind his long bangs.

“I- If you’d have me, I’d be extremely grateful.” Kenma gives a small, shy smile as he holds his phone up.

“I already asked my parents as a heads up.” Kuroo laughs, because he knows Kenma’s sneaky and prepared, but he had never imagined something like this. With a light chuckle, Iwaizumi accepts a hand up and brushes himself off.

“Thanks. Just let me get changed and then I’ll be with you.” He jogs off to the changing rooms with a smile on his face that reflects this butterfly-like happiness in his heart, genuinely touched by Nekoma’s welcoming nature and friendliness. He may have to write down some numbers, for if he ever gets his phone back. (Not likely, but he might get a new one.)

As it turns out, Kenma didn’t need to offer him a place to stay for the night. Takeda had obviously upheld his promise, and then the school must have passed the message onto his mother who enlisted help in the form of Oikawa’s mum. She rocks up to Nekoma high school just as the school gates are being closed, and Iwaizumi doesn’t even get to explain to Kuroo and Kenma why this old, beat up car skid to a halt in the school courtyard, before Oikawa himself is flying out the backseat and tackling him to the ground.

“IWA-CHAN~!”

“Ack! Dumbass, get off! You’re squashing me! I can’t breathe! _Oikawa-!_ ” He feels something dripping on his cheek, and he knows it isn’t rain because the skies have cleared.

“... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Oikawa’s laugh is wet and emotional as he sits up, wiping at his face.

“Maybe Iwa-chan is the dumbass.”

“Just this once, yeah. I’m the dumbass.” He reaches up and brushes away a stray tear from Oikawa’s face with his thumb, a tender smile in face at how he was missed _so much_ even though he had only been gone for the duration of school hours.

“I skipped club to try and find you, Iwa-chan. Your mum was so scared – she’s okay, I promise! – but she called the police and we got the neighbours to help, and there was a _huuuuge_ search party. We thought you’d been kidnapped! Or worse, murdered! So don’t do that again, Iwa-chan. Don’t ever... Don’t _ever_ go missing again. Eh?! Why are you crying?!” 

“I’m not!” Iwaizumi blatantly is, even as he tries to cover it up, but it’s much too late. He pushes Oikawa off him and stands up. He’s not going to tell anyone he’s crying because he’s _moved_ by their concern. Because it shows they care. They worried. They looked for him when he was lost, and they eventually found him, when _he_ was scared. He has a whole family, more than just his blood relations, looking out for him in his hometown. The realisation makes his heart swell and his nose tingles like he’s about to break into another wave.

Before that happens, however, he has something else he needs to do. The rest of Nekoma has already left, but the two who helped him most, and the Coaches, are still standing in front of the locked gymnasium doors. He spins around to them on one foot and bows as deep as he can without falling over.

“Thank you for your hospitality and kindness! I will return it when I can!” 

“You’re very welcome, Iwaizumi-san.” Nekomata claps him on the shoulder and Naoi nods in agreement before they depart, heading to their cars to escape the school grounds before coming back _tomorrow_. Then, amidst the silence, Kuroo starts snickering. Iwaizumi looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“So... ‘Iwa-chan’, huh~?”

“Oh fuck no, please don’t start.”

“Iwa-chan!”

“Kuroo, I swear to god-.” 

“Iwaaaa-chaaaan~!” In good humour, Iwaizumi clambers into the back seat of Oikawa’s mother’s car and hides his face in his hands.

“Drive, please drive. I’ll never hear the end of it if we don’t escape now.” With a chortle, she starts reversing at a slow pace, just enough to stay out of Oikawa’s reach when he starts to chase after them, shrieking about being left behind. When they reach the school gates, she turns the car to face the right way and lets her son in the passenger seat. 

Iwaizumi rolls down the window and leans out, waving at the two students who red who trail after them.

“Thank you! Bye!” He hears Kuroo shout something back that he can’t quite distinguish, but it’s definitely longer than goodbye. 

It isn’t until he gets home he realises he left his sports jersey there. (Kenma promises through Skype to send it in the post, before stating it’s rather comfy and he’d keep it if he could.)

All in all, and despite the circumstances, Iwaizumi is pleased he got to spend time with a veteran school that reached the nationals of volleyball. It gives him drive to win the prelims in the Spring Tournament, so he can play _against_ them, rather than with them. He can imagine the adrenaline, the excitement, the tension.

And, well, if he can’t get the team past Shiratorizawa again, then he wouldn’t mind going to Tokyo to support them from the stands.


End file.
